Always You
by BloodyMiry
Summary: Elizabeth & William are career-minded best friends who work together and share almost everything in life, including bad luck in love. Will a trip back to her hometown bring them closer together?Or will a promise she made 10 years ago tear things apart?
1. Prologue thru Chapter 4

**_Always You_** by _bloodymiry_

Summary: "Elizabeth Summers and William Bartlett met on their first day of college when they chose side-by-side seats in English 101. She'd been enamored from the moment he opened his mouth to speak... He'd thought she was the prettiest, most delicate little thing he had ever seen…" Now they're career-minded best friends who work together and share almost everything in life. Including their bad luck in love. Will a trip back to her hometown bring them closer together? Or will a promise she made 10 years ago tear things apart? This is totally AU-no slayer, no vamps, all humans (and my first completely AU fic) so expect a few character and relationship differences with a few original characters thrown in for filler grin. 

Disclaimer: All characters are property of Joss Whedon, ME, and FOX. I'm simply borrowing them for my storyline, without permission, of course… because, well, being bad is half the fun, right?

Rating: R

~~~~~~

PROLOGUE 

Elizabeth Summers sat alone at the small table in the quaint restaurant, quietly tapping her well-manicured fingertips on the linen tablecloth. The small candle flickering from the center of the table threw splashes of light across her face, illuminating her delicate features and masking the annoyance that was beginning to show. As she sipped her wine, she casually looked around the room once more, purposefully letting her gaze end at the front door. Then she noticed it:  the maitre d' was leading a large vase of red roses, with a very familiar blonde head behind them, straight toward her table.

"Enjoy your evening, Sir," the maitre d' said, before hastily making his way out of the dining room.

The gentleman sat the roses on the table and reached out for Elizabeth's hand, pulling her up in front of him. He leaned in to whisper, "Buffy, you look amazing, pet."

She leaned her head back to look into his eyes, and replied, "Cut the crap, Spike. You're late," her tone brooking no further jesting.

"I know, pet, but I had a last minute meeting with the publishers and then traffic getting out here was horrendous. Tell you what… I'll make it up to you anyway I can. Whatever you want, you just name it, and it's yours." He flashed her one of his trademark smirks, knowing that it melted her anger every time. Neither one really realized that they were still standing a breath away from each other, still holding hands, and still almost gazing into the other's eyes.

"You might live to regret that statement."

"I doubt it," he told her, before leaning in to kiss her cheek. "Happy Birthday, luv."

The two sat down at the little table, making light conversation while they decided on dinner and picked a wine to compliment. 

"So, which publishers were you meeting with… mine or yours?" She asked after they'd ordered.

"Mine, of course. You seem to keep forgetting that you're the "chosen one" of your publishing house. I think you could give them nonsensical drivel and they'd think it was Pulitzer Prize-worthy."

"That is so not true Spike."

"Yeah, ok," he grinned. "Anyway, they're demanding my next chapter by the middle of next week, so it looks like I'll be writing all weekend. Are you up for a little informal editing?"

"Of course. Finding your faults has always been one of my favorite pastimes," she told him, letting the mischief shine in her eyes. Their conversation was cut short when an elderly gentleman stopped at their table and spoke to them. "You two make the most beautiful couple," he stated.

Buffy's heart tripped in her chest at the man's words. "Thank you, sir, but we're not…" Spike started, only to be cut off by the older gentleman.

"You two remind me so much of me and my Ginny, God rest her soul... I just couldn't help but watch you," he continued, not even acknowledging Spike's denial.

They both smiled up at the man, not really sure what to say to him. Buffy's smile was genuine, but a little of the light was gone from it, replaced by the sting in her heart at Spike's quick denial of their couple status. Truth be told, Spike would like nothing better than for them to be a couple, but he knew that if he even said such thing around Buffy she'd declare him mentally unstable.

The older gentleman placed his hand on Spike's shoulder, and squeezed gently when he said, "Don't let this one get away from you." He turned to Buffy and smiled. "Happy Birthday, Miss."

"Thank you," Buffy replied, watching him as he carefully walked out of the restaurant.

"That was strange, don't you think, pet?"

"Hmm?" She questioned, as she sipped more of her wine.

"He was like the third person in a month who has thought we were a couple." His tone was dry, and came out far more harshly than he intended. 

There was that stinging feeling again. "Well, I guess people just assume that we're a couple because we're so comfortable together," she covered, thinking she'd never in her life been so glad to see a Caesar salad when the waiter brought their first course out.

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch, and Buffy noted that she definitely liked small, quiet birthday celebrations much more than the huge parties her friends from home had always insisted on. They settled into a comfortable silence on the drive back to Buffy's house, and with one final kiss on her cheek, Spike left Buffy in her kitchen and retreated to "his" room at her house, grabbing an extra blanket on the way to guard against the February chill in the air. The words of the gentleman from dinner picked at the edge of both of their brains as they drifted off into sleep.

+ + + + +

CHAPTER 1 

Elizabeth Summers and William Bartlett met on their first day of college when they chose side-by-side seats in English 101. She'd been enamored from the moment he opened his mouth to speak, having never heard such a sexy smooth British accent before. He'd thought she was the prettiest, most delicate little thing he had ever seen… the epitome of what he thought "California girls" were like. They were friendly to each other in class, until it came time for the first group project. Working together brought out their defensive sides, and they butted heads over every minute detail of the paper. While other students were putting their papers off until the last minute and throwing together mediocre work, Elizabeth and William slaved away. Their hard work paid off- they got the only A's in the class that semester. The friendship bloomed from there, each counting on the other's help in their English 102 and subsequent Literature classes. 

Elizabeth thought college would be the perfect chance to shed her high school nickname and become someone new. After all, what's the point of moving all the way across the country if you couldn't reinvent yourself? She'd even toyed with coming up with a new nickname. Lizzie, Beth, Betsy, but none of them really felt right, so when her professors called out the roll, she just answered to Elizabeth and didn't correct them. The name thing lasted until around midterms of her second semester when she made the mistake of asking William to bring up her mail on his way to a study session. He came into her room carrying a stack of magazines and cards, balanced on a huge box.

"Someone must really love you, Buffy" he chided as he unceremoniously dumped the stuff on her bed.

"What did you just call me?" she asked, wondering what had possessed him to come up with that name.

"Buffy. I called you Buffy. After all, almost every bit of this mail is addressed to Miss Buffy Summers. Even the big box there. You must have quite the fan club going on."

A blush began to stain her cheeks, and she looked away when she said "It's my birthday this week. It's probably a gift from my mom."

"Wait. It's your birthday this week?" She nodded her answer. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Everyone always made such a big deal out of birthdays at home, and something inevitably went wrong. I just thought this year I'd ignore it and hope it went unnoticed."

William shook his head in disbelief. "Well, Buffy, it hardly looks like your friends and family are going to let it go unnoticed. And neither will I. We're going out to celebrate, Buffy." He chuckled when he saw her turn her nose up at his use of her nickname.

"Stop it."

"Stop what, Buffy?"

"That. Quit it."

"Quit what, Buffy?"

"No…" she pleaded, burying her head in her pillow. "I've waited 18 years to get rid of that nickname. Why did you of all people have to find out about it?"

"I think it's a cute name. Much less stuffy than Elizabeth. So, Buffy it is. From now on."

So there it was, William made sure that Buffy did not loose her nickname, and thoroughly enjoyed teasing her about it every chance he got. His enjoyment lasted until later that Spring, when Buffy answered his phone one sunny afternoon.

"Hello? I'm sorry who?" she asked, giving the phone a strange look. "I think you must have the wrong… wait a minute." She covered the phone and looked over at her study partner, a mischievous grin tugging at her mouth. "Spike, it's for you," she said, holding the phone out to him.

"Oh thanks, luv," he replied with out thinking twice. Her eyes narrowed as he took the phone from her, and he paled when he realized his mistake. His conversation was quick, and as soon as he hung up the phone Buffy jumped up and started dancing around the room.

"Ha! 'Ha, bloody ha' is all I have to say to you, Spike!" she said triumphantly, in her pitiful attempt at his accent.

"Luv, what in the bleeding hell are you going on about?"

"Oh, I don't know, Spike. Just the fact that you've been tormenting me over being called Buffy for the past two months, when it seems that you had a nickname in the closet you were trying to get rid of."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," he said indignantly, but knowing that she'd called his bluff.

"Yeah, right. I saw the look on your face when you realized that I knew."

"Fine," he sighed. "I was trying to get rid of it. It's just a stupid nickname from when I was a kid anyway."

"Well, if you get to call me Buffy then I get to call you Spike." She grinned at him, knowing that she had him.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'll let you call me Spike but only because it's so much fun to see you cringe when I call you Buffy."

"Touché my friend," she replied.

From that day on, Buffy and Spike shared almost every experience that college life had to offer. Every drama from the first hangover to the first breakup, to choosing a major and changing said major. They bonded with each other, and with their roommates, Wes and Tara. The group became inseparable, and by the beginning of their junior year they'd all found a house to share and were permanent roommates.

Writing came naturally to both Buffy and Spike, but while Spike knew he wanted to one day be a fiction author, Buffy floundered quite a bit with her career choice. She first wanted to be a fashion editor for a large magazine. Then she thought she'd be an international news reporter, then a food critic, then a sports writer. It wasn't until the school newspaper featured one of her short stories that she gave any serious thought to writing them for a living. Eventually she started writing short stories more seriously and knew that she'd one day have them published, and maybe even expand her writing and do a novel.

After graduation, the four friends went their separate ways. Tara went on to graduate school, Wes moved to Washington DC for law school. Spike went home to England, taking an internship writing for a London newspaper, and Buffy moved to New York to begin her dream of becoming a serious writer.

Her first year in the city passed somewhat slowly. She wrote a column for several local entertainment magazines, but like most struggling artists she found that she had to take another part time job to make rent. So she waited tables at one of the more touristy restaurants, and used every moment of free time she could find writing and trying to get her stories published.

She was getting ready to give up on writing her book when it happened. One night, she answered her door and found the sweetest surprise.

"Spike! What are you doing here?" she asked as she flung her arms around him in a desperate hug.

"Pet, let go… I can't breathe," he wheezed. "Can't I just come see my best friend as a surprise?"

"Of course you can," she said, helping him bring his bag in. "But something tells me this isn't just a friendly visit. Why didn't you tell me you were coming and I would've met you at the airport."

"Oh, it's no big deal, Buffy. And I am sort of here on business," he told her, as they moved to sit on the couch. " I have an interview with the Times in a few days."

Her mouth fell open. "Be kind, rewind. Did you say you have an interview with the Times?"

"Sure did, luv." He smirked as his news sunk in.

"As in, the New York Times?" she questioned.

"The very same."

"So, you may be moving here?" He nodded. "Oh, God Spike… you're amazing. You don't know how thrilled that makes me. I needed someone like you around. Things were just getting to be too much," she said, looking away from his intense gaze when she realized she was on the verge of rambling.

He reached out and crooked one finger under her chin, forcing her to look back at him. The tears that had been welling up in her eyes fell at the motion, and he pulled her into his arms without thinking twice. "There, now, Buffy. What's wrong?"

She sniffled and hiccupped a few times before reaching over to the coffee table and shoving a well-worn letter at him. "This is what's wrong, Spike. I suck, apparently."

He read the letter, and made a disgusted face at the document. "So you got a rejection letter. That's not totally uncommon, pet. You'll try again and be right back on track."

She shook her head and looked away again. "It's the fifth one, Spike. I'm sick of trying. I just don't think it's worth it."

"Let me see them," he asked, getting up to pace around the small room.

"Let you see what?"

"The other letters, and the stories you're trying to publish. All of it. You've got a new editor."

"Spike, you have an interview in a few days," she started to argue. "The last thing you need to be doing is…"

"Get them, Buffy. I'm not seeing you give up on your dream when I know damn well I can help you achieve it."

Eight months later, Buffy and Spike had quite a celebration. He had just been promoted from staff writer to daily columnist at the Times, and Buffy's first collection of short stories was being published. Soon after, she was able to quit waiting tables and write full time. Spike was still writing in his free time, keeping the idea of one day being published himself in the back of his mind while using the time at the newspaper to network with publishers and bring in enough money to pay the rent.

They worked diligently, both pursuing their dream of writing and seeing it come true. It took both of them another three years to become well established in the literary community, and they were both cranking out books for their publishers like clockwork. They had eventually struck a deal so that they were each other's editors, and their critics were amazed at the ease with which they worked together.

Buffy soon grew tired of the fast pace of life in the big city, but Spike loved every minute of it. Buffy knew that she needed to be close to the city to continue working, but she longed for a quieter, more simple life… the big house with the picket fence that television made seem so normal. Eventually she bought a house in the country, about 2 hours outside of the city. Spike kept his two-bedroom loft in the city, but divided his time between his place and Buffy's, finding the environment very inspirational and easy to write in.

To the outside world, they each had the perfect life. They were surrounded by good friends, had jobs that they adored, and were living out their dreams. As far as they were each concerned, life was complete. The only area lacking was love, where each had found problems. But being the strong willed people they were, they pushed their problems aside and dove head first into work. Neither seemed to notice the feelings developing for the other, and neither dared to mention it when they did notice. So, life continued as normal, two best friends sharing everything but their true feelings.

CHAPTER 2 

"Do you think that there's one perfect person out there that you're destined to be with?" Buffy asked, looking up from the pages she was reading and editing.

Spike's fingers stilled over the keys of his laptop, her question snapping him out of the flurry of words he was typing. "Well, yeah, actually I do. I figure that one day I'm going to find the perfect woman for me, and she'll love me as much as I love her and we'll live happily ever after. Very much unlike the angst-filled people I love to write about. What about you?"

"I guess. It just seems so futile sometimes, though. I mean, you go on date after date with the wrong person, and what if you miss out on the right one while you're wasting time with Mr. Wrong?" she sighed, turning her gaze to the fire crackling in the fireplace.

"Thinking about your date this weekend?"

"A little."

Spike grinned. She'd been seeing Angel O'Conner, New York City's fastest up-and-coming stockbroker, since shortly after her birthday. They'd met at a publicity event for her new book and had been out several times. The next big date was this weekend, when he was planning to come out to the country and get to know Buffy outside of the big city scene. Buffy looked up at Spike, and he could swear he saw a tinge of nervousness in her eyes. "You're still coming back out here Saturday night, aren't you?"

"Well, pet, I don't know. I mean, if the big date goes well I'd hate to interrupt your weekend of fun."

"He's not staying the whole weekend, Spike. I doubt he'll even stay Friday night."

Spike rolled his eyes. "He'd have to be crazy not to," he muttered under his breath.

"Huh?" she questioned.

"Nothing, pet. I was just taking to myself, trying to suss out this new chapter. Of course I'll be here."

+ + + + +

Spike opened the door to Buffy's house, thankful to be in out of the light rain that had peppered down during his entire drive, making the Saturday night traffic even heavier than usual. Shedding his wet coat and boots, he ventured into the foyer. "Buffy? Buffy are you here, luv?" he called out, knowing that she was home when he smelled the distinct whiff of firewood burning in the living room. He heard a muffled laugh, and walked slowly into the room, afraid that he would indeed be interrupting another date between Angel and Buffy. He swallowed the lump in his throat and refused to acknowledge the jealousy that flared at the thought. Turning the corner, he stopped short in the doorway to the living room, taking in the sight in front of him.

Buffy sat on the floor, leaning over the coffee table and propping her head up with her left hand. In her right hand she clutched a half empty bottle of tequila. Faint black lines of mascara were smudged on her cheeks, but her tears seemed forgotten in lieu of the comfort of the hot liquid she'd been pouring down her throat. A few lime slices were scattered on the floor, and her cordless phone lay near the hearth, the back popped off and the battery hanging from a wire. She turned her head a little too quickly when she heard Spike at the door, and caused her elbow to slip off the coffee table and she fell over with a huge laugh.

"Shpike!" she exclaimed with a huge grin on her face, after sitting up following her bobble. "Come 'ere. Sit. 'ave a drink wif me.."

Spike's eyes widened when he realized that Buffy was drunk. In fact, she was beyond drunk; she was sloshed. He crossed the room and sat in the floor facing her. "Hey, pet. What's happening?"

"Nothin," she replied, reaching for her forgotten shot glass. She poured it full and nudged it closer to him. "Bottom's up!"

He took the glass and swallowed the fiery liquid, watching in amazement as she ignored her usually proper decorum and drank from the bottle. "Pet, did something happen last night?"

"Nope," she giggled, and scooted over closer to him, laying her head on his chest.

"Did Angel stay with you?"

"Nuh-uh. We had dinner and then we came back here and well… I'm sure you know what we did then, and then he left…"

Spike shuddered at the thought of her sleeping with that man, but chose not to comment. He was about to say something to her when he realized that she was still talking.

"… and in all this time he never even thought to mention her to me until today. Just called up and said he didn't want to see me anymore, and he was really sorry if he hurt my feelings. The bastard!" she finished, poking her finger so hard into Spike's chest that he felt sure he'd have a bruise in the morning.

"Wait. What's that, pet? He didn't mention who until today?"

"Were you not lissenin to me when I tol' you what he say when he called?" she slurred out. "He's been dating some woman he works with since like… forever, and didn't tell me about her. This affernoon he calls and said he loves her and can't see me anymore. So I threw the phone at the fireplace and decided to have myself a drink or 10."

Spike was glad that her head was resting firmly on his chest, because he really didn't want her to see the seething rage that was brewing in his eyes for this man. How could he use Buffy like that when he had another woman in the city? Couldn't he see what an exceptional woman Buffy was? He felt Buffy move, and saw her reach up and brush her fingers over her cheek. When he felt her tiny form barely start to shake, he realized that she was crying. He put his arm around her and sat her up, so she was facing him, and brushed her tears away with his thumbs.

She looked up at him with more tears leaking from her eyes and asked, "Why didn't he love me?"

"I don't know, pet. Maybe because he's not the right one, and fate wanted you to be free to find the right one." He marveled at the sudden clarity he saw swimming in her green eyes, and was even more shocked at the swiftness with which it left them.

"Maybe. Now drink with me." She said, attempting to pour another shot for him, but missing and pouring tequila on the floor.

"I think you've had quite enough for tonight, luv." Spike stood up and before she had a chance to protest, swept Buffy up in his arms and carried her toward the stairs.

"Where're we goin?" she asked as her head flopped over on his shoulder.

"I'm putting you to bed so you can sleep off the effects of our good friend Mr. Cuervo." He took her into her room and attempted to lay her easily on her bed. But when he put her down she refused to let go of him, and knocked him off balance, pulling him down onto the bed.

She laughed when he fell on top of her. "Buffy, let me go." He told her. She just shook her head and continued to hold on, moving her arms up his back so her fingers could play in his hair. "Buffy, what are you…"

"Spike. I love you." She told him as one hand found it's way to his face and her fingers gently traced the sharp outlines of his cheekbones and the scar in his eyebrow.

Her grasp on him was finally loosened enough that he could stand, and he looked at her with sheer confusion, but chalked it up to her drunkenness. "I love you too, Buffy. Now get some sleep," he told her, pulling her covers up over her and tucking her in like a child.

"No. I mean, I really loooove you," she replied, flashing him a silly grin and getting a dangerous twinkle in her eyes. 

He leaned over and kissed her forehead, smoothing her hair back from her face. "I think that you'd be feeling a lot less love without the enhancements of the tequila. I'll see you in the morning, pet." He stood up and was about to walk away, when her hand shot out and grabbed his. He turned around and saw the tears streaming down her cheeks once more.

"Please stay with me. Just tonight. Stay here and hold me until I fall asleep, so the loneliness won't hurt so much."

There was no way he could deny her when she looked so heartbroken. He grabbed a quilt from the chair next to her bed, and lay down beside her, keeping her wrapped snugly in her comforter. He wrapped his arms around her and held her, whispering comforting reassurances to her until they both fell asleep, neither wondering why it felt so right to be in the other's arms.

CHAPTER 3 

Buffy's mind slowly swam toward consciousness, and while on the journey she desperately tried to avoid the little gnomes hammering in her head and the gymnasts flipping around in her stomach. As she cracked one eye open and tried to stretch, she found that she couldn't really move due to the strong arms that were holding her. Feeling more than confused, she turned her head only to look into the very peacefully sleeping face of Spike.

Her eyes flew wide at the realization that it was morning, and Spike was in her bed, holding her like she was his most precious possession.  The more she worried about what could've happened the night before, the more confusing things became. She looked at him a moment longer and realized a few more things. She was still fully dressed in her clothes from the previous night. So was he (at least she thought she remembered those being the clothes he had on…). She was snugly wrapped up under the covers of her bed. He was on top of the comforter, covered only by the quilt that she kept beside the bed. She managed to turn over a little bit and nudge him with her elbow.

"Spike, Spike wake up," she whispered dramatically, trying not to make the pounding in her head any worse.

He awoke the second time she nudged him, and jumped to sit up, looking very startled. "Huh?" he questioned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Please," she whispered, "don't move so fast. It makes the bed move and that makes me queasier."

He grinned, but gently scooted back to lean against the headboard, and easily put his arm around Buffy again, allowing her to rest against his chest. "Not feeling so well, this morning, are we pet? See, I told you you'd love me a lot less without the happy brought on by Mr. Cuervo." 

"Spike, please don't make fun of me," she whined, before picking up on his last sentence. "What do you mean you told me I'd love you a lot less? What happened?" Her mind raced with the possibilities of the foolish things she could have done in her drunkenness the night before.

"Well, luv," he started, only to be shushed by her.

"Not so loud," she complained, moving slowly into a more comfortable position with her head on his shoulder and her arm draped lazily across his waist.

He chuckled, but brought his tone down to little more than a whisper. "Well, luv, I got here last night to find you quite sloshed. Seems you didn't much like your conversation with Angel yesterday…" He watched as realization bloomed across her face, and a deep scowl set in when she remembered the incident. "You ordered me to drink with you, but after my first shot you were so unsteady that you poured the second on the floor. I cut you off and brought you to bed. Then you asked me to stay with you, so I did, and now here we are, you with a hangover and me having slept in all of my clothes, which is more than I've slept in in years."

A blush found its way to her cheeks at the reference. She'd known for years that Spike never slept in anything. He only wore boxers to sleep in at her house some of the time because he knew that the idea of him sleeping naked freaked her out a little. "So, that's all that happened?" she asked with a little trepidation.

"Of course that's all that happened! Well, except for you declaring your love for me, but I guess tequila's funny that way."

She rose up to look at him. "I declared my love for you? What's that supposed to mean?"

He rolled his eyes. "You really were more wasted than I thought, pet. Just after I brought you up here, you pulled me down on the bed with you and said 'I love you, Spike'" he told her, trying to imitate her drunken slur from the night before. "When I told you that I loved you too and told you to sleep, you said 'no, I really looove you, Spike.'"

"Oh, my God. Please say you're lying." She waited for him to laugh and tell her that the joke was over. When he didn't, she started to worry. _What do I do now? How do I explain myself? He'll hate me and leave just like everyone else, before I even have the chance to scare him with all of my relationship phobias, _she thought. "I cannot believe that I got that drunk all alone. I'm so sorry Spike."

"S'okay pet. Besides, it's probably good that you needed me to take care of you. Kept me from running out and strangling Angel for hurting you."

"You'd do that for me?" She was so taken back by his statement that she didn't even take the time to think about whether or not he was buying her avoidance of the love declaration.

"Course I would. You're my best friend, and I love you, and I don't take kindly to men who think they can hurt you like that."

She smiled. "You take such good care of me, Spike. Thank you." He shrugged and pulled her back against him. "Can we just stay here a little while longer, until the little men stop pounding in my head?"

"Sure, luv. Isn't the first hangover I've helped you through, sure it won't be the last," he chided, while she slipped back into sleep, wishing her hangover away.

+ + + + +

Several weeks after the Angel incident, Buffy sat on the train, humming a happy tune as she made her way into the city. She couldn't wait to see Spike squirm, and she just knew that he was going to when she sprung her news on him.  She had plenty of time on her train ride to play out different scenarios in her head, each one being a little more delicious than the one before it. He had always made it very clear to her that he absolutely _hated_ things like this. As the train neared her stop, she checked one more time to make sure the envelope was in her bag, and gathered her things.

It was a crisp spring day in New York City, and Buffy loved the feel of the cool air and the sunshine on her face as she stood waiting for a cab at Penn Station. After a relatively quick cab ride, she felt her glee mounting as she walked through Rockefeller Center to Spike's office building. Her glee was effectively squashed, however, when she turned a corner and almost ran right into Angel and a woman that she could only assume was the one he'd broken up with her for.

"Oh, excuse me, Miss," he half mumbled when he came up just short of bumping into Buffy.

Confusion creased her brow for a moment, until she realized that he apparently had never told this woman about her, and was thus avoiding an explanation by pretending not to know Buffy. _*that bastard*_ Buffy thought, before flashing a grin and replying "No problem, please pardon me…" She breezed past them, not looking back to see the smug look on Angel's face.

When she reached Spike's office, she stopped to speak to the receptionist, making sure that he wasn't in a meeting. A significant amount of her bravado was shaken by the run-in with Angel, but she managed to get back a little bit of her boldness by the time she made it to his doorway.

She just stood there, not letting her expression give anything away. A wide grin bloomed across his face when he looked up and saw her standing there; a smile so bright that it took her breath away, and almost made her loose her poker face.

"Hey, pet… I wasn't expecting to see you today. Much less in this busy-city you claim to hate so much," he taunted with a wink, while pulling her into a hug.

She kissed him on the cheek, and moved to sit in one of the chairs opposite his desk. "Well," she started, trying to keep a professional tone, " I wasn't really planning a trip into the city, but I found that I had a little business to address."

"Really, now?" he questioned as he moved to sit behind his desk. "So whose head is on the chopping block today? Did some critic--"

"Yours." She said, interrupting his train of thought.

"Mine? What did I do, Buffy?" The tiniest bit of worry snuck into his voice, and he mentally checked off anything that had happened over the past few weeks that she could possibly be angry with him about.

Buffy leaned forward in her seat, barely propping on the desk with her left elbow. "Do you remember a certain promise you made to me in February?" She watched as he thought back, and waited until remembrance clicked. "I told you that you might regret promising me anything to make up for being late to my birthday. It's time to pay up."

He was growing more confused by the second, and reached a wary hand out to take envelope Buffy was presenting him with. She sat back in her chair, and watched as he read the contents of the letter, letting her smile grow wider as his expression became more and more mortified.

He looked up at her, saw the Cheshire cat grin she was sporting, and knew that she wasn't really angry with him. "So, you have a class reunion coming up, and you're going to try to make me go with you."

"I'm not going to try, Spike. A promise is a promise, and I'm not going to this thing alone."

He smirked at her, deciding to play her little game. He could see that she was getting wound up, and wanted to see just how this would play out.

"I know that you hate stuff like this Spike, but really. You don't expect me to go home and see all those people alone, do you? I mean, they're all going to be married and engaged, and I just cannot show up there all alone. And you did promise me whatever I wanted, and this is what I want, and if you cared half as much as you claim to then,"

"I'll go."

"Don't you try to weasel out, mister. This is what I- wait… You'll go?"

Spike smiled at her. "That's what I said. I'll go. I'm thinking a trip to California might be nice. Haven't been in a while, I'll bet your Mum misses me."

"So… just like that. You'll go. I thought it would take a lot more convincing than that." She said, rolling her eyes.

Before she realized it, Spike was in front of her, hauling her up into an embrace. He leaned in and whispered saucily "Well, you could still do the convincing part, pet, if you really feel the need…"

She pulled back and looked at him, narrowing her eyes when he laughed. "You're a pig, Spike."

"I know. Sing me a new one, luv."

"I ran into Angel today," she said, sitting back in her chair. She tried to ignore the tears stinging at the back of her eyes, and looked away from Spike's piercing gaze.

"I'm so sorry, luv. What did he say?"

"Nothing. He acted like I was just another stranger on the street. He was with some blonde woman. I just assumed that it was *her * ."

"Buffy, I know that what he did to you still hurts, but I think it really is for the best. You don't need someone like him around. You deserve someone who will love you completely and unconditionally. I know in my heart that he's out there, and you shouldn't settle for less."

There was so much conviction in his tone, and such promise in his eyes, Buffy found it very hard to think of reasons why she wouldn't admit that she was in love with the man sitting in front of her. Spike's heart broke thinking of how much she was hurting over a man who didn't even deserve to be in the same room with her. He briefly wondered why she couldn't just open up her eyes and see how much he would love her, if she'd let him.

But, both of them being the stubborn people that they were, refused to acknowledge that maybe what each of them were looking for was right in front of them.

+ + + + +

Chapter 4 

Spike sat on the plane, looking over Buffy and out the tiny window at the clouds below. Somewhere in his daydream, his eyes had wandered from the window to the tiny form beside him. Buffy was curled up in her seat, with her feet tucked up under her and her head resting on the pillow she'd propped up next to the window. She was fast asleep, and he didn't see how she could sleep with the sun shining through the window and into her eyes.

He gingerly leaned over her and lowered the shade, watching her face relax when the bright rays were blocked. She sighed when his arm brushed hers, and a little smile found its way to her lips. She mumbled something that he couldn't understand, and before he could stop himself he'd asked "What was that, luv?"

She sighed again, snuggled deeper into her pillow, and whispered, "Thank you for taking such good care of me."

He smiled, and touched her hair briefly before turning his gaze away from her, realizing she was once again fast asleep. He also realized that small moments, just like the one he had just experienced, were the reason that he'd give her anything she asked of him. Just like the class reunion he was accompanying her to. He'd bluntly refused to go to his own, stating that he had no use to go and rehash the past with people who didn't care about him ten years ago, and he wouldn't give them the opportunity to pretend to care now that he was a well-known author. Yet now, he was on a plane with his best friend, going with her to the very event he was supposed to despise.

The plane was a whole new situation. Spike hated the aisle seat. He always commented that he much preferred the window, because you could sit there and chill out by yourself, not feeling like you had to talk or relate to all those people around you in the aisle. But again, he was now sitting in his first class aisle seat because Buffy had wanted the window so she could sleep, and she had flashed him a half smile, half pout, knowing that he would cave.

_Man, you are seriously whipped, _he thought ruefully, before digging in his bag to retrieve  his laptop. As he sat back up, he noticed that the young lady across the aisle from him was holding a very familiar looking book, and she was totally absorbed in her reading. He smiled to himself before leaning across the aisle to speak to her.

"She'll probably sign it for you when she wakes up."

The young red-head turned a confused expression toward him. "Pardon me?"

"I said, she'll probably sign it for you… your book. I mean, if you want her to."

The girl leaned forward in her seat, and noticed Buffy snoozing next to the window. "Oh my goodness, it is you!" she excitedly said, hushing her tone so that the other passengers didn't hear her.

It was Spike's turn to be confused as the girl leaned over and began rummaging through her bag. She sat back up, and produced copies of his last two books, along with Buffy's first and the one of Buffy's that had been published just before the one the girl currently held in her lap. A huge smile bloomed across her face as she started talking to him again.

"I've been reading these this summer. My friend recommended them, and I just fell in love with the first two books I read, and went right out and bought the other ones. I can't believe that I'm actually sitting on the plane next to the two of you!  My friend, Marci, is going to be so jealous when I tell her," she gushed, making Spike feel more like a teen idol rock star than a writer.

"I would really love it if Buffy would sign my books when she wakes up, that would be so great! And, um.. will you sign them too? I have two of yours that I read already…" she continued, blushing a little when she realized how she was starting to babble.

"Sure thing, pet." Spike replied, reaching out and taking the copies of his books from her. Once he'd grabbed a pen from his own bag, he opened the front cover and prepared to write. "What's your name, then?"

"Oh, I'm Jen. Jen Chambers."

"Well, Jen Chambers, enjoy your trip," Spike said as he handed her the books back, thinking how thrilled Buffy was going to be when she woke up to find she was sitting next to an official fan of theirs. 

+ + + +

Buffy leaned back in the seat of their rented convertible, letting the sun warm her face and the wind toss her hair. A quick look at her watch told her that they had about an hour left before Sunnydale, and she was now wide awake and ready for her vacation to start.

"So, that Jen girl was pretty nice, huh?" she asked, still amazed that the girl next to them had read all of their books.

"Yeah, luv, she was. You should have seen her face when she realized who I was. It was like she was talking to a movie star or something."

"I think that seeing you made her day, Spike. She was glowing when she got off that plane.

Spike had the good grace to blush when he remembered the dreamy looks that the girl had given him since she realized she was sitting next to William Bartlett, her new favorite author. "Whatever, pet… let's just get started on this vacation of fun and no more talk of anything pertaining to work until we're back in New York."

"That's more than fine by me," Buffy threw back, grinning as he sped up and the wind whipped through her hair again.

+ + + +

Joyce Summers glanced out her front window, smiling as she saw the black convertible swing into the driveway. The two blondes bounced out of the car, grabbing their bags before running up to the front door.

The door swung open before they even set foot on the porch, and Joyce stepped out to greet them. Buffy dropped her bag and immediately pulled her mother into a fierce hug. "Oh, sweetie, it's so good to finally have you home again," Joyce cooed, smiling at Spike over her daughter's shoulder. When the two women separated, Joyce embraced Spike as well, making him blush slightly at the motherly attention.

"Well, come on inside, you two… I'm sure you'll want to get settled and freshen up before dinner," Joyce instructed, shooing them inside the house. Buffy and Spike headed straight for the stairs, intent on dumping their bags in their respective rooms. When Buffy reached the guest room, however, she turned a confused gaze toward Spike and her mother, who was following closely behind.

"Uh…Mom, what happened in there? It looks like a war zone!" Buffy said frantically. The window was broken and covered by a thick blue tarp, shattered glass littering the floor. The bed linens were ripped in spots and several spots on the carpet were smudged and dirty.

"Oh, sweetie, I meant to tell you about that, but it just slipped my mind when you got here. Mr. Thomas, next door, decided yesterday to trim some limbs from that big tree in his back yard. But you know how stubborn he is… he insisted that he could do it himself rather than hire professionals to do it for him. Long story short, he made one wrong cut and a huge limb came crashing through the window."

"Mom! That man is unbelievable! Did he at least offer to pay for the damages?" Buffy snapped, seeing red at the beady little man who had lived next door to her mother for as long as she could remember.

"Yes, Buffy. He's going to pay for everything. But the contractor I got to do the repairs can't get started until Monday. So I'm afraid that we'll have to shuffle around a bit until then. I feel so bad that your vacation is getting of to a bad start," Joyce apologized.

Spike decided he should throw in his opinion, and turn on some charm, before Buffy completely lost control. "Joyce, don't be silly. You haven't messed up a single part of my vacation. I'm here to spend two weeks with my two favorite women in the whole world. So, I'll sleep on the sofa for a few nights. No big deal."

"Spike, don't be crazy," Buffy said, pinning him with her bright hazel eyes. "You'll just sleep with me."

Spike's eyes flew wide, and he started coughing as he lost his breath for a moment. Joyce gave her daughter a quizzical look, but recognized from Buffy that she would accept no excuses.

"I'm serious," Buffy insisted. "I mean, we're both adults, and we're best friends. It's not like we haven't ever slept in the same bed before." Buffy snickered at the shocked expression on her mother's face, but continued. "Seriously, Mom… it'll be fine, and it's only for what, like 3 nights or so." Buffy picked up her bag and walked toward her room, before turning back to look at Spike. "Are you coming?"

Spike just shrugged and threw a comical glance at Joyce before following Buffy into her room.

+ + + + 

A/N: Sorry it took so long for the update! I'm going to try my best to get the next one out very soon. Real life just decided to get interesting around here lately, keeping me away from writing. Happy reading, and thanks for the reviews!

Want to know more? Go on to the next part :)                                                                                                    Send feedback

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	2. Chapters 5 and 6

Chapter 5 

****

Later that evening, Spike sat propped up against the headboard of Buffy's bed, scanning the contents of a magazine he'd found on the floor. He didn't really care that it was circa 10 years ago or that announced the headline "Dealing with the Pressures of Prom Sex"; it was keeping his mind off the fact that in less than a few moments, Buffy was going to be crawling in the bed with him and expecting him to do nothing but sleep.

_This is bloody insane! _Spike thought. _Maybe I should be payin' attention to what this stupid book is sayin about the sex bit.  Course, doesn't really matter, because she doesn't know I love her, so why then would she think it odd for us to share a room? The next three nights are going to drive me batty…_

Across the hall, Buffy stepped from her warm shower and wrapped herself in her robe while she concentrated on brushing her hair. Her hair became the least of her worries, however, as too many Spike-centric thoughts continued to flood her brain.

Way to go Buffy… nothing like inviting the object of your desire into your bed for three nights of… what? Nice, friendly sleeping? What was I thinking?! He's going to be in there, flashing those baby blues at me, and smirking that smirk and I just know I'll say or do something to make this really awkward. What if during the night I roll over and my hand ends up where it shouldn't be? Or what if I forget it's him and like, kiss him in the middle of the night or something? Yeah, right, like I could forget it's Spike… with his beautiful eyes and beautiful body and… STOP! Nothing can happen… he's my best friend and doesn't think of me that way…

Before she even realized it, Buffy's mind had gone on autopilot and she had covered herself with her vanilla lotion and spritzed the scent through her hair before pulling it up into a messy knot on the top of her head. She had meant to skip the fragrance tonight, and go to bed smelling like nothing. _That's what happens when my mind gets lost on Spike, apparently_. She slipped on her tank top and pj shorts sporting pictures of red lips all over them and silently padded across the hall to her room.

Her breath caught in her throat when he saw Spike. Propped up against her headboard, shirtless, his hair messy from the ride in the convertible and from getting undressed, he looked like a fantasy. A fantasy that should be beckoning her to bed to do anything but sleep.

Spike smelled her before he even glanced up from the dated magazine to see her standing in the doorway. Vanilla wafted into the room, with warm sugary undertones alerting him to her presence. He was amazed when he finally looked up at her. She was standing in the doorway; hair pulled into a messy knot, no make up, skin still the slightest bit flushed from her shower. He thought she'd never looked more beautiful, and willed his body not to react to the sight of her. 

He grinned at her but didn't say a word as she walked into the room and dumped her clothes and hairbrush on top of her suitcase. She crawled into the bed, snuggling under the covers and turning to face him before asking "Whatcha reading?"

With the most serious expression he could muster, Spike held the magazine up for her inspection. After he heard her giggle, he lost all control himself and started laughing.

"Spike, why, may I ask, are you reading a YM Magazine from my senior year of high school?" 

"Because it's the only bloody thing in here not related to work and I needed something to occupy my mind while waiting on you so we can get our beauty sleep," he explained, before tossing the magazine back to the floor where he'd found it.  Noting that Buffy was already snuggled into her pillows, he reached over and turned off the lamp before settling into his own side of the bed.

They were facing each other, neither one closing their eyes for sleep, but neither one speaking at all. The moonlight streamed through the cracks in the blinds, and fell on Spike's back, giving him a glow that made him almost look angelic. Buffy was mesmerized. Suddenly, she looked up into his eyes and couldn't quite figure out what she saw in them.

"Why is this weird?" she asked, before she could even contemplate the repercussions of an answer.

Spike thought for a moment before replying, "Um… because I have on underwear and you don't?"

Buffy's eyes grew wide in shock at the statement. "I do so!"

"Pet, I don't know what's under the shorts, but you most definitely do not have on a bra."

"Wha-"

He grinned. "I know you don't. I mean, with those tiny little straps on that shirt there's no way you could be wearing one and besides," he blushed a little before looking away slightly "I can just tell."

Buffy looked down and realized it was a tad chilly in her room. And the evidence was there for all to see. Pulling the sheet up to cover her chest, she said "Well, you don't have on a shirt. You have on boxers, I have on panties. No shirt for you, no bra for me."

He chuckled. "Fine, love, whatever you want." He leaned over and kissed her forehead before turning to face the window. "Nighty night Buffy."

+ + + +

The soft hues of twilight colored the window, taking away the angelic glow of moonlight and preparing the sky for the fiery rays of the sun. Buffy's left hand was entwined with the fingers of Spike's right hand, while her other hand supported her weight as she hovered over him. She leaned down, placing soft, wet kisses on his chest, taking the time to explore every inch of his torso; enjoying the feel of his muscles twitching beneath her and the little gasps coming from his throat. She paused to place a brief, chaste kiss to his lips before going back to continue her trail down his chest. His unique scent of leather, tobacco, aftershave and the slightest hint of alcohol assaulted her senses. 

He ran his fingers through her hair and gazed adoringly at her. "You're going to tease me to death, aren't you, love?" he asked, appreciating the seductive smile that spread across her face.

"No, I'm not," she replied huskily.

"You're not what, dear?" Joyce asked.

"What?!" Buffy asked, sitting straight up in her bed, snapping out of what was decidedly the best fantasy of her life.

"I was trying to wake you to tell you breakfast is ready, and you mumbled something about what you weren't doing."

Buffy blushed slightly. "Oh, it's nothing Mom… just a dream I guess, I really don't remember. I'll be down for breakfast in few." She glanced around her room, noting the absence of one bleached blonde best friend. "Mom- where's Spike?"

"Oh, he went out for an early morning run. But he promised to be back for breakfast. He looked really tense… I think the two of you needed a vacation more than you're willing to admit." 

Buffy brushed her teeth and joined her mother in the kitchen. The island was filled with plates of homemade waffles, scrambled eggs, French toast, and bacon, while a pitcher of fresh orange juice sat next to the coffee pot. "Mom, I have certainly missed your weekend breakfasts. Spike and I never eat this good in New York."

As if on queue, at the mention of his name the back door swung open to reveal a very sweaty and panting Spike. "Morning, pets," he panted, before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and gulping down half of it. "Nothing clears the mind like a run in the fresh morning air." He sidled up to Buffy as she was pouring her coffee. Turning his best puppy dog eyes toward her, he asked "Make me cup too?"

Buffy scrunched her nose up. "Not if you keep attempting to rub your sweaty self all over me." He pouted. She tried not to let her mind wander the more fun implications of what she'd just said. "Go, sit. I'll bring it to you."

"Thanks, pet," he said with a wink and smirk.

After breakfast, Buffy and Spike decided to kill some time by driving out to the beach. They spent the morning and early afternoon swimming and playing in the sand, acting like two teenagers rather than two 28 year old career people. On the ride back to her house, Buffy let out a contented sigh.  
  


"That was the most fun I've had in a long time, Spike."

"I'm glad, pet. Maybe we need to look into taking vacations more often then," he told her, enjoying the purely happy smile she wore and the way the wind whipped through her damp hair.

When they got back to the house, Joyce's car was gone and she'd left a note on the counter. "I wonder where Mom went that she had to leave a note" Buffy wondered aloud, picking up the note and barely scanning it before clearing her throat for a dramatic reading.

_Dear Kids, _"Will she never stop calling us that?" Buffy questioned, as Spike laughed at the greeting on the note. Buffy continued.

So sorry to do this, but it really couldn't be helped. Marie was supposed to go on a buying trip for the gallery this weekend, but called this morning and said her husband had a heart attack last night. There's no one else to take her place, so I'm afraid I have to head out to San Francisco for a few days. I'm so sorry I'll miss seeing you kids off to the reunion tonight. Give all your friends a hug for me. I should be back on Tuesday.

_Love you lots,  
Mom_

Buffy's heart raced at the thought that she would be all alone with Spike in the house that evening. "Well, looks like we're on our own, Spikey."

"Looks like, pet." The smirk fell from his face as he replied "And don't call me Spikey."

+ + + +

Spike knocked softly on Buffy's bedroom door before opening it slowly and stepping inside.

"Ready to go reunite with your past, love?" He questioned, as he watched her fumble with the clasp on her necklace.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she said, while still struggling with the necklace. "Why won't this thing work?" she cried in frustration.

"Here, let me," Spike said, placing his hands over hers and taking the necklace from her. She held the strands of hair that fell around her neck away while he secured the clasp. As he straightened behind her, they both caught a glimpse of themselves in the mirror.

Buffy's dress was a deep sapphire color, falling to just below her knees in a diagonal hem. One strap fell over her left shoulder and leaving her right shoulder bare, framing the diagonal neckline in the opposite direction of the hem, creating simple yet alluring lines along her tiny frame. Spike's suit was charcoal grey, with a lighter, pale grey shirt. He'd opted to go for a more casual look, skipping a tie and leaving the top button on his collar open. They both smiled while eyeing the other with appreciation.

"We look pretty together," Buffy said shyly, in a small voice.

Spike reached down and took her hand. "We certainly do, pet. Now let's go make everyone jealous with our prettiness," he said with a wink.

+ + + +

Chapter 6 

While the outside of The Bronze had gotten a face-lift, Buffy noted that not much else had changed about the club over the last ten years. Still the same dark interior, with its shadowy corners and shady balcony, overlooking the large dance floor and long bar. The pool tables were gone, and in their place were more bar tables, some high tops with tall bar stools and other shorter rounds, with padded lounge-type seats.

Before she'd even finished signing in and finding the nametags laid out for Spike and herself, she heard an all too familiar voice squeal her name. Turning, she barely registered the flash of red hair before being pulled into a ferocious hug.

Returning the embrace, she squeaked out "Hey, Willow."

"Oh, Buffy, it's so good to see you! Why didn't you call when you got in?"

"I'm sorry, Will, we were just really tired and needed to catch up on some rest. This morning we decided to just have a leisurely day at the beach, and then Mom had to leave for San Francisco, and things just got hectic getting ready to come tonight."

Willow smiled, and at the mention of "we" in Buffy's explanation, she finally looked up and saw Spike standing there. "Oh, hey William. Glad you could make it. Buffy told me how much you hate these things…"

Spike pulled the redhead into a gentle hug. "Willow, I've known you for at least nine of the last ten years. Please call me Spike." Willow smiled and nodded her head in agreement. "I must admit that I'm not the fondest of reunions, but any chance to learn more about Buffy's sordid past I'll jump at."

They all laughed after Buffy elbowed Spike in the ribs. "We've already got a table, why don't you two come and join us? I'll be just like old times," Willow said, leading the way. On the way to the table, Buffy noticed something glimmering on Willow's finger as her hand motioned toward the old high school gang. Buffy caught her hand in mid-gesture, holding it up for inspection.

"Willow Rosenburg, how long have you been sporting this rock?" Buffy asked, feigning hurt that she didn't know of her old friend's engagement.

A huge grin bloomed across her face. "Only about a week. Oz finally asked me last week. It was the sweetest thing; he took me out to the beach for a picnic at sunset, and when we got to dessert the ring box was nestled in the middle of a basket of strawberries and champagne. Of course I cried, and I think I said yes before he even finished asking."

Buffy hugged her friend again. "Oh, Will, that's wonderful. I'm so happy for you." They exchanged a knowing grin before Buffy continued, "You must have transformed him, Willow. High school Oz never would have come up with champagne and strawberries."

Willow nodded. "You have no idea, Buffy. I mean, he's still the same guitar-playing rocker I fell in love with, but on a lot of levels he's totally different. Grown up, I guess."

"Well, growing up happens to the best of us," Spike threw in, just before reaching the table.  All heads turned to take in the sight of the two newcomers, before Xander jumped up to greet them.

"Hey, Buffster…looking good!" He hugged her, but only briefly before his wife pulled him back down into his seat.

"Xander, it is not polite to pay more attention to other women than you do your own wife, especially when said woman has her own hottie to pay attention to her," Anya bluntly pointed out to him. "Hello, Buffy. How are you?"

Buffy and Spike both grinned, forgetting how blunt the woman could be. "We're great Anya. It's good to see you. Oz, how are you?" Buffy asked, stepping around the table for yet another hug.

"Oh, I'm not complaining," he replied with a ghost of a smile. Motioning slightly toward Anya, he said, "We thought you'd never get here. Why don't the two of you sit down and tell us what you've been up to."

"But I was telling you about the joys of motherhood and how it's not so joyous during the terrible twos," Anya pouted.

"But they've heard this story a million times, honey," Xander coaxed, "Remember how we talked about not telling the same story over and over to our friends?"

"But, Buffy and Spike haven't heard it…"

"It's quite alright, Anya," Buffy said. "How is your little one?"

Anya beamed with the possibility of talking about her second favorite topic: her daughter. "Oh, up until her second birthday, Penny was an absolute angel. Now I'm positive she's a demon in training."

At the mention of her name, Buffy had to stifle a grin when she suddenly remembered the call from Xander announcing the child's birth. Anya was crying in the background, not understanding why she couldn't name the child "Dollar" or "Money". They decided on Penny, and from that day on she was all Anya could talk about.

Xander spoke up, quelling what could be a never-ending story from Anya, asking Buffy and Spike about their newest books. The two blondes told them what was going on in the world of publishing, catching the old friends up on their current storylines and bouncing ideas off of fresh minds. They were so caught up in their visit that no one even noticed the tall brunette making her way to their table.

"Well, well, well… if it isn't the losers of Sunnydale High. We should have a plaque engraved for this table, since your butts always seem to be glued in these seats. I mean, really how lame can you…." Her rants faded as she looked around the table and let her eyes settle on the good-looking blonde man in the grey suit. 

Cordelia's eyes widened as she realized who he was. "Oh, my gosh… you're William Bartlett!" She said, shock taking over her features. "Why are you here with this bunch of losers?"

Spike rolled his eyes before standing and turning to face her. " Surely you should remember your old classmate, Buffy, right… Cordelia?" he said, eying her nametag. "I'm her date. And, I usually tend to think that popularity status is a lot like beauty. All in the eye of the beholder, right pet? Now, who was it that you're here with… or couldn't the Prom queen scrape up a date for tonight?" he finished, watching as a horrified expression took over the former prom queen's face. She turned and stomped away, fleeing the crowd and heading straight to the bar to drink away her woes of showing up alone.

Spike sat back down, just as Xander commented "We've been trying to knock her off her pedestal for 10 years, man. Way to go." The group laughed and continued talking and catching up.

--

The evening went on, with the couples enjoying dinner and drinks and dancing. Buffy and Spike danced the night away, making each of the friends wonder if there wasn't more to their relationship than they were admitting. During one trip to the bar, Buffy took the opportunity to ask Willow about some of their classmates that she'd not been able to speak with. Willow told her that Jonathan had been in partnership with Warren and Andrew, starting a computer gaming business. Warren and Andrew, however, got involved in some corporate software scandal and tried to pin the whole thing on Jonathan. Luckily, they'd missed a few key pieces of evidence linking them to the whole debacle, clearing Jonathan and putting them away for quite a few years in prison.  

They spotted Scott Hope across the room, and Buffy nearly dropped her drink when Willow told her he was gay. Buffy noticed another familiar face, and sent Willow back to the table with the drinks while she went to visit another old friend.

Crossing the dance floor, Buffy stepped up behind him, waiting for him to finish his conversation with some other guys before saying "Joseph Michael Winston, I'm positively crushed that you haven't even spoken to me yet."

He recognized the voice right away, and turned to find the most adorable pout on her face. He scooped her up into an embrace, lifting her feet off the floor and spinning her around. He kissed her on the cheek before sitting her back on her feet. "Well, I could say the same for you, missy. You've been in town for how many days and didn't call me?"

"Honestly, we just got here yesterday. Things have been crazy around the house and I didn't call anyone yet."

His eyebrows rose in question. "We? Who's this we you speak of? Finally gave your heart away, eh'?" 

"Well, not exactly," she partially lied. "You must know Spike, my best friend from college, my current editor? He owed me one, and it was time for a vacation, so he came with me. You must be here with some ravishing beauty…" she trailed off, looking around for any women shooting jealous glares at her.

"Well, not exactly," he mirrored her words, before launching into his own story.

Spike sat at the table and watched the interaction, trying his best to quell the spark of jealousy he felt in his heart. The embrace, the spinning, the light touches while they talked… he wondered why he had no clue who this man was. "Who's that bloke that Buffy's talkin' to?" 

"Whoa, you don't know Joey Winston?" Xander asked, shocked.

"Apparently not. Should I?"

"Should you? I would think so. I mean, he was only the closest guy friend Buffy ever had in high school, as much as it pains me to admit that." Xander added, almost as an afterthought. He started telling Spike all about Buffy and Joey's high school adventures, but Spike was barely listening. 

He couldn't tear his eyes away from Buffy, and had the distinct 'now or never' kind of feeling where she was concerned. She looked up at him then, and when she saw Spike looking at her, her grin grew even wider. She looked right at him, and even from across the room he felt like he could drown in her eyes. She winked at him, momentarily setting his heart at ease. He had never felt surer of what to do where Buffy was concerned, and began to formulate a plan.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't realize Xander was still talking, until he heard him say, "They were always really close. Hell, that summer after senior year he asked her…OW!"

Spike looked up then, seeing Xander's face screwed up in pain and a glare from Willow. He eyed them suspiciously then, wonder just what Willow thought was so important she had to kick Xander under the table to keep him from saying. "He asked her what? I didn't hear that last part," Spike asked the two of them.

Willow cleared her throat, daring Xander to speak another word. "Oh, it's nothing really, just old history," she started with a little hesitation. "They went on this road trip after graduation, just the two of them. They were gone for almost two months, and when they were almost home, he sort of asked her out. But Buffy said no, because she was afraid it would ruin the friendship."

"I see." Spike said, noting the look that Xander gave Willow and deciding that there was something that they weren't telling him. He looked back out to the dance floor and momentarily panicked when he couldn't spot Buffy.

"Spike, dance with me," Willow requested, standing up and offering her hand to him. "Oz is at the bar and you've danced with everyone but me."

He took her hand and dramatically kissed the back of it. "How could I have been so rude?" Willow laughed, leading him out onto the dance floor while trying to choose a spot that wasn't too close to where Buffy and Joey were dancing. As they danced, she made up her mind that she needed to say something to Spike, without giving away the secret that Buffy and Joey shared.

"Spike, how much do you know about Buffy's dating life before college?"

He looked at her strangely, but answered, "A little. I know that she feels like she's always had bad luck with men, and her more recent relationships have done nothing to reassure her to the contrary."

"So, then, she's not really attached to anyone at the moment?" He shook his head 'no' and waited for Willow to continue. "Spike, please tell me if you think I'm overstepping my bounds here, but I've watched you and she tonight, and it's pretty obvious how you feel for her."

Spike looked away, before Willow grabbed his chin and forced him to look back at her. "You love her, don't you?"

"Yes," he quietly admitted, "more than life itself. But she'd never love me like that. She's too scared of being hurt."

"I think you might be surprised if you told her, Spike. But listen to me now- don't wait too much longer, or it may be too late."

"Don't wait… Willow what aren't you telling me?"

The song ended, and Willow saw that Buffy had spotted them and was coming toward them with Joey. She leaned into whisper "I can't say anymore, Spike. It's not my place. Just know that you don't have a whole lot of time."

Spike didn't really have time to be more confused at Willow's statement, because before he knew it he was again drowning in the hazel gleam of Buffy's eyes. She smiled, and grabbed his hand before saying "William Bartlett, I'd like you to meet one of my friends from high school, Joey Winston. Joey, this is my very best friend and editor, Spike."

The two men shook hands, and Joey said, "Most everyone calls me Joe now, Buffy's about the only person who can get away with calling me Joey."

Spike chuckled and replied, "Same here mate. She's the only one nowadays who doesn't call me William. Well, except for her little group of friends here."

Willow sensed the tension radiating from Spike. "Joe, why don't you take me for a spin around the dance floor? These two look like they could use a drink."

"Sure thing, Willow. William, it was nice to meet you; Buffy, give me a call…we still have some major catching up to do."

As he led Buffy to the bar and watched Willow and Joe dance, he wondered even more what the truth about Buffy and this old friend was, and why it was so important that he declare his love sooner rather than later.

+ + + + 

TBC…

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	3. Author's note

Note: Hi everyone! Thanks for reading my newest story. Please forgive some of the formatting at the end of the chapters (you know, the parts that, in this format, just read "Go to the next part" or "Send feedback to the author"). To make life easier for myself, I'll be updating this story here when I update my own website, and it's easier to upload the same document that I use to upload to my page, rather than having to make several copies of the same chapter/update. I just wanted to take a moment to explain that, so it wouldn't seem like I was demanding reviews or anything :) 

Again, thanks for reading so far. The next part is in beta as I type, so hopefully there will be an update soon. If you don't see updates here right away, check my website (listed in my profile) for the latest updates and news regarding my fics.

Take care and be happy!

~bloodymiry


	4. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 

Spike and Buffy left the reunion with another round of hugs and promises to get together again with her old friends before they went back to New York. Spike stayed pretty silent on the drive back to her house, partially contemplating what Willow had told him and partially planning what to do when they got home.

Buffy noticed the silence, but it didn't feel awkward; rather it felt like a comfortable silence that good friends sometimes fall into. She soon found herself studying Spike as he drove the black convertible through the deserted streets of Sunnydale. The moonlight was once again playing on the sharp angles of his face, making him look even more beautiful than he usually did. A ghost of a smile founds its way to her lips as she thought of him as 'beautiful', but it was really the only term that truly fit him.

Something felt different between them tonight, but at first Buffy couldn't really pinpoint what it was. The night had started out like any other night they went out, but then she remembered when everything had changed. She had been talking with Joey, just before they danced, and looked up to catch Spike gazing at her. Her heart had flip-flopped in her chest at the sight of him, and she could almost swear she was looking into the eyes of a man who was as much in love with her as she was with him. She'd winked at him then, and noticed how his expression had changed only slightly, but his face had relaxed as if her wink had reassured him. From that moment on, the rest of the night was different. They had another drink at the bar, and danced for at least another hour. But each time they were together, he found some way to touch her; when they danced he held her a little closer than normal; when they were talking with her friends he just looked at her as if he was worshipping the ground she stood on.

When he stopped at a red light, he glanced over and caught the dreamy look on her face, and  he couldn't help reaching out to gently brush his fingers over her cheek. She seemed to snap out of her reverie, but only to smile at him and take his hand in her own. Feeling a sudden wave of bravery, she brought his palm to her mouth and kissed it, and when he didn't flinch or look confused, she turned his hand to link their fingers together. 

The thought that it probably wasn't too safe for Spike to be driving one-handed flitted through her mind, but the way their hands fit together felt too right to let go. Finally, she broke the silence between them just as the car turned onto Revello. "Thank you for tonight, Spike. It was much better with you there."

"You're welcome, pet. It actually wasn't so bad after all," he said with a smirk, which made her laugh lightly.

She let go of his hand so they could get out of the car, and both of them felt a little bit sad at the loss of contact. As they neared the house, though, some of her bravery began to slip, and she wondered what Spike would really say if she just opened up and poured her heart out to him. Once inside the door, she felt more hesitation creep into her as she realized she was standing dangerously close to him.

"Um, I'm going to take a shower before I go to bed, I feel icky from dancing so much," she said, making her way to the stairs.

"Alright, I think I'll just check out what's on the telly before I head upstairs, then," Spike replied, knowing that watching television was the last thing on his mind. He watched as she disappeared upstairs, and listened carefully for the water to turn on. As soon as he heard the shower start to run, he raced up the stairs, set on putting his plan in motion.

He moved around her room quickly, picking up the random items of clothing that had escaped from their suitcases and putting the luggage neatly into her closet. He then ran back downstairs and found every single candle that was sitting out, and brought them up, placing them all around the room with the ones that were already there. As he turned down her bed, he briefly wished for flowers and rose petals, but then also briefly wondered if he was being too cliché with his plan. As he heard the water shut off, he quickly went about putting the finishing touches on the room.

Buffy stepped out of the shower and wrapped up in her bath towel, waiting a moment for the steam to clear a little before drying off. She towel dried her hair and quickly ran the hair dryer over it, getting out most of the dampness before twisting it up into a loose twist and securing it with a clip. This night, however, she purposefully smoothed the vanilla lotion into her skin and misted some of the spritz of the same scent through her hair. Taking one last look at herself in the mirror, she felt some of her courage seep back into her consciousness. Her golden skin had taken on the tiniest tinge of pink from the warmth of her shower, and a few wisps of her half-dried hair had fallen from the clip to frame her face with their shimmering strands. Discarding the towel that she'd been wrapped up in, she reached for the only remotely sexy night garment she'd brought with her; a satin negligee that fit all of her curves and fell to the middle of her thigh. She smiled when she noted that it was red, Spikes favorite color, and wondered if she'd perhaps had him in mind all along when she bought it.

She shut off the light in the bathroom and padded silently out into the hall, noticing that her bedroom door was half-closed, and she recognized the flickering lights coming from within as candlelight. _Is he planning on seducing me?_ She thought, suddenly feeling much more at ease with her earlier thoughts of seducing him.

"I thought you were going to…" she started as she walked through the door, but her thoughts trailed off as she took in the sight before her. Almost every surface in her room had a candle sitting on it, and the flickering light welcomed her with warmth she thought she'd never actually felt before. Spike turned at the sound of her voice, and she was awestruck. He was standing near her window, lighting the last of the candles, still dressed in his clothes from the reunion, however his shirt had been unbuttoned and untucked, giving him a casual elegance that make him sexier than usual.

"Buffy," he breathed, allowing his eyes met hers before sweeping over her body, taking in her presence. He quickly crossed the room, pulling her gently into his arms, trying to carefully gauge her response or sense any hesitation. She went willingly into his embrace, taking the opportunity to slide her hands up his back and caress the strong muscles hidden under his shirt. "Buffy, love, you look amazing," he whispered in her ear, setting off a series of tingles down her spine and back up to where his breath lingered on her neck.

"Spike," she started, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes and trace the sharp lines of his cheekbones. Whatever else she was going to say to him left her brain, though, as she leaned in a little bit further, until his lips were mere millimeters from hers. Her eyes drifted closed as their lips made first contact, brushing together in the barest hint of a kiss.

They each responded quickly, clutching the other closer and changing the kiss from an innocent brush into a passionate caress. Spike's tongue licked at her bottom lip, requesting the entrance that she willingly gave. Buffy opened to him, drawing him deeper and deeper into the kiss. Her hands came back into play, this time running up the front of his chest, and attempting to push his shirt from his shoulders. They broke away from the kiss, both panting for breath as his shirt pooled on the floor, but never breaking their exploration of the other. Buffy continued running her hands over his well-sculptured chest, while Spike ran one hand up her arm, splaying the other on the small of her back to hold her close to him.

He kissed her again, quickly, and started maneuvering them further into the room and toward her bed. He peppered her face with kisses starting at her temple and working down one side of her neck, across her collarbone and up the other side. Buffy gasped at the feel of his lips on her skin, feeling like he was setting her body on fire with his touch.

When he felt her little hands start fiddling with his belt, he pulled back again to look at her. He reached down to still her hands, bringing one shaky hand back up to caress her cheek. He tilted his head as if he were studying her every detail. "Love, are you sure?" He was so afraid she'd bolt, but he had to ask, to be absolutely certain that they were on the same track before he went any further.

She smiled, and turned her head to kiss the palm of the hand that rested on her cheek. Buffy then turned her eyes back to look into the indigo depths of his eyes, the eyes that she sometimes felt like she could drown in. "I'm sure Spike. I want you…"

It was all he needed to hear. He swept her up in his arms, carrying her over to her bed and carefully laying her down, taking the opportunity to once again engage her in a fervent kiss. Buffy once again went for the waistband of his pants, deftly unbuckling his belt and unfastening his pants. She felt his hands graze her thigh and grab the hem of her negligee; they broke their kiss only long enough to pull the garment over her head. 

His hands felt like they were everywhere at once, sending sparks through Buffy's nerve endings and drawing out reactions that she didn't even realize she was capable of. He mentally noted each one, which touches caused her to quiver, which ones lead her to gasp or moan. Soon, her hands came into play as well, eliciting the same reactions from him.

As they made love, each one felt like they had found a missing piece of themselves; a piece that they previously hadn't realized was missing. Buffy never realized that it could feel this perfect, this right, like it was meant to be.

No more words had been spoken between them after Buffy's admission of want. None had been necessary as they each picked up on the subtle hints and clues from the other to silently communicate their passions and emotions. Even in the end, their names had been mere whispers of perfection on the others lips as they fell into bliss together.

Spike held Buffy close to him as she snuggled up as close to him as she could get, and he intently listened as her breathing slowed from short pants to deep inhalations. As she settled down and he was sure she was sleeping, he glanced down at her, placing a gentle kiss in her hair before whispering "I love you, Buffy." Her only reaction was a contented sigh, her breath tickling his chest before he followed her into slumber.

~~~~~~

note: First of all, I would like to say thank you to everyone who emailed me your wonderful comments and kept reading throughout my extra-long hiatus. Moving 700 miles away from home took a little longer to settle down from than I imagined it would! Thanks to s_star and Natalie Elizabeth for taking on the job as beta when mine quit. I've decided that I need to stop promising when new chapters will be out, since real life keeps throwing kinks into my plans, but hopefully the updates will be a bit more regular now that I'm settled into my new home. Thanks for reading… feedback is appreciated!


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